


Romantics

by Kitty_KatAllie



Series: What's It Like [20]
Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Fluff, M/M, don't real if you're allergic to too much sugar becuz this is a sickening amount of fluff, if the title doesn't give it away, so much fucking fluff teeth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 22:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12993867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_KatAllie/pseuds/Kitty_KatAllie
Summary: “I’m glad you’re here,” Seijuuro murmured against Sena’s mouth a very long time later.“Me, too,” Sena agreed fervently. Then, he tugged Seijuuro down for another. He wasn’t done yet. Not even close.





	Romantics

**Author's Note:**

> What do they find most sexy about the other?  
> What happens when the other is getting flirted with? By a third party?  
> Have they dedicated songs to each other?
> 
> Takes place at the end of Sena's third year. Shin gets drafted and leaves for America before his fourth year is over. (spoilers?) Anyway. Enjoy winter in Boston! (Because, yes, he's signed on with the Patriots, the overachiever)

The voice of the captain was speaking politely and rather monotone over the intercom and just seconds later, the seatbelt safety light pinged off. The snap of buckles and the expressions of relief from a couple hundred people getting to their feet and going straight for the overhead compartments rose around him. But he couldn’t move, frozen in place and clinging to the arms of his seat with white-knuckles. His heart was beating too fast, his mouth too dry, as he stared with too wide eyes over the tarmac outside his tiny window. It was almost sunset, the sky just barely blushing orange and pink. Gone was the dismally grey and wet landscape of Tokyo, replaced with a Boston winter wonderland worthy of Christmas cards, with piles of snow and the breath of the ground crewmembers steaming into the air as they waved their batons or drove the luggage carts.

It wasn’t terror holding Sena in place. Far from it.

It was too much excitement. The past almost-thirteen hours had been a blur of anxious jitters and fidgeting that had annoyed the passengers closest to him, because he was on his way to America. Four long grueling painful months of rushed and awkward Skype calls. And even those had been rare thanks to an unfortunate incident with the laptop meeting an untimely death mid-October until it could be replaced in November.

Plus, with Sena’s finals and the end of the season… there hadn’t been more than a hurriedly typed-out email on his phone between study sessions and classes the past three weeks. There had been a terrifying delay back in Narita that had kept the plane grounded for several hours thanks to the inclement weather here in Boston, but luckily they’d been able to take off only a few hours behind schedule instead of a whole day, or _days_.

And Sena knew the moment he got to his feet he wouldn’t be able to keep himself slowed down. He had only his carry-on and his lightspeed feet to worry about, and waiting crammed into a smothering and too-hot line of passengers waiting to disembark stifled him just thinking about it. The plane began to empty out, the crew coming up the aisles to begin the first cleaning. One woman blinked in confusion seeing the small brunette still sitting and anxiously twitching in his seat across the wide aisles.

“Excuse me, sir,” she started to say, thinking perhaps he was somehow sleeping with eyes wide open.

Only to shriek softly as he got to his feet and _disappeared_. The flutter of magazines, discarded blankets, and loosely hanging seatbelts was left in his wake.

Sena darted out of the plane, sneakers all but scorching the floor in his haste. He pause to bow and give rapid thanks to the flight attendants at the doors, leaving them stammering their farewells to empty air a second later. He not only caught up to the rest of the passengers on his flight, he zipped past them, darting around children and carry-on suitcases and the people wielding them, racing past passengers from other planes, the moving sidewalk next to him downright glacial in comparison. Not that those things were meant for hyper-speed or anything, but even those walking on the moving sidewalks were left too easily in the dust.

He bypassed a large number of the crowd, getting him to the customs and immigration desks so far ahead that the notoriously long lines were a mere five minutes deep, if that. Sena bounced and huffed his way through the excruciating wait, barely managing a polite grimace for the suspiciously squinting customs officer.

“What brings you to the United States today?” he asked, flinty and annoyed at Sena’s jitters that made capturing his picture almost impossible.

“My boyfriend!” Sena blurted desperately, barely keeping his hands from snatching the passport the officer still held in his hands.

The officer stared and then closed the passport with a low chuckle. “Well, that explains that. Enjoy your stay, Mr. uh… Koboyaykayway?”

“Yup! That me! Koboyaykayway!” Sena agreed with an eager nod and more eager hands outstretched for his passport. “Thanks you!” He bowed, bumped his forehead to the counter, yelped, and rushed away with a face cherry-red as the officer finally threw back his head to laugh. A few others in the counter area were also tittering at him, but Sena ignored it as best he could.

Because Seijuuro was waiting just a few yards away. Or maybe half a kilometer depending on how far the baggage claim was from the arrivals gate…

Sweat was beading his forehead and upper lip when he finally made it past the last doors, eyes searching frantically. It was so much harder to pick him out of the crowd when _everyone_ in America seemed so much bigger— broader and taller and wider. Where Seijuuro had stood out in an average crowd back home, here he was one of millions. And then Sena felt it. That heavy, intense, _laser_ focus. Every hair on his body stood up and he passed one loudly shouting family and there he was. Standing arms-crossed and feet planted in the midst of the uncaring crowd. He wore a giant green parka and massive black snow-boots, but that was _his_ dark-eyed gaze that met Sena’s across the crowd.

Only to skate away a moment later. Sena’s heart stuttered, but he could see the hard line of Seijuuro’s jaw from here, that all too familiar mouth drawn back too tautly and his shoulders too tense and high. Sena jumped a luggage trolley that didn’t move fast enough and raised a hand, catching that dark gaze once more at the motion before he called out,

“Sei!”

Arms uncrossed and shoulders went lax as his mouth unfirmed just enough for the edges to tip upward and his eyes to crinkle at the corners.

“Sena.”

He launched himself across the remaining centimeters, arms wrapping hard around Seijuuro’s torso and face pressing to the middle of his chest. Seijuuro’s arms automatically wrapped around his shoulders, his taller form curling over just enough to press his cheek to Sena’s temple.

“I’ve missed you so much! You should’ve stayed for your last semester. You were right, I was wrong, let’s go back to Japan now,” Sena half-joked, eyes a little teary as he curled his fingers into the thick unforgiving fabric of Seijuuro’s parka. He felt more than heard the low rumble of Seijuuro’s amusement while one hand cupped the back of Sena’s head.

“It’s too late for that, I think,” Seijuuro replied quietly. Just the sound of his voice had every residual bit of anxiety and adrenaline leaking out of Sena on a sigh of relief and comfort. He tried to wriggle even closer, pressing his cheek to the scratchy wool of Seijuuro’s cable knit sweater. “You have a heavier jacket than that, don’t you?”

Sena groaned and pulled away, biting back a gratified smile at the unwillingness of Seijuuro’s arms to unlock from around him. “I have a jacket in my bag. I’ll be fine.”

Seijuuro eyed the little rolling bag Sena had been carting around. “Get it on, so we can go. We can make the next shuttle to the hotel if we leave now.”

“Way to ruin the moment,” Sena said with a scoff, unzipping his pack and digging out his jacket. It wasn’t quite as big and puffy as Seijuuro’s, but it was good enough for Tokyo, so it’d be fine for Boston. Despite Seijuuro’s dubious looks.

“I’d rather continue ‘the moment’ in private,” Seijuuro stressed pointedly. Sena’s fingers slipped over the suitcase zipper, his brain automatically vaulting to dangerous territories. Knowing Seijuuro, though, he probably meant cuddling under the covers for the next twenty-four hours.

Sena was _so_ on board.

They were braving the _arctic_ winter chill of Boston minutes later. And, okay, so this jacket was not enough. Sena needed every article of clothing in his bag on him to feel warm again, why the hell wasn’t he wearing a hat or gloves!? A warm woolen hat covered his head and ears, tugged into place by a smirking Seijuuro. Sena flushed in embarrassment and bumped his shoulder into Seijuuro’s arm.

“Don’t you say it.”

“We’ll get you better clothes for while you’re here. I have more than enough room in my apartment for your own things to stay,” Seijuuro suggested instead, quickly picking out the shuttle they needed and leading a flummoxed Sena there.

“My… my things? To stay? Like, things for Boston only?” Sena asked, unconsciously quickening his pace to keep up.

Seijuuro frowned at the tone. “Yes, was I not clear?”

“Oh… no, you definitely were,” he replied, rather breathlessly, heart picking up speed. And thank goodness that was their shuttle they were already at, because they were that much closer to the hotel that was the closest drop off point to Seijuuro’s neighborhood. Sena needed to kiss Seijuuro as breathless as he was as soon as possible.

Watching him calmly pay the driver as the attendant loaded the small bag into the back was infuriating! How could he be so calm after just casually moving Sena into his apartment!? Okay, well, _half_ moving him into it, since Sena still had a year left of college and who knew where he’d get drafted, but still! He was basically giving Sena the equivalent to his own side of a closet and he was acting like it was _no big deal_.

Sena could not handle this after four months of limited contact and the last 13 hours spent on a plane. He sunk into his chair next to Seijuuro, discreetly slipping his frigidly cold hand into Seijuuro gloved one. Seijuuro pulled off his glove immediately and, after both his eyebrows rose at the temperature of Sena’s skin, entwined their fingers and shoved their hands into his parka pocket.

Sena grinned and leaned his body against Seijuuro’s. Only an hour more until they could be alone.

 

The last thirty minutes of that hour had been them trudging through the snow to Seijuuro’s brownstone apartment. (A _waaaay_ too expensive place for a rookie draftee! That Shin money strikes again.) Seijuuro took pains to point out the places he frequented when not on the road, the coffee shop he’d finally caved in and become a regular at, the bus stop he took to get into downtown, the route he took on his morning or evening runs, the neighbor with six cats he’d had cake with several times now, the kiosk he bought his newspapers from every morning. It had Sena’s cheeks flushing with more than cold, eyes glittering as he imagined the next few weeks of doing all those things and meeting all these people _with_ Seijuuro. Like a real adult couple. It blew his _mind_ , but he tightened his grip around Seijuuro’s hand (still in his pocket) and grinned wide enough for his skin to _creak_.

They got inside the brownstone, Seijuuro’s keys falling to a shallow dish on a sideboard just inside the foyer. There was a small slipper and shoe shelf just beside that.

“My mother had a company furnish the place, so you should find it all comfortable,” Seijuuro explained, fitting his feet into slippers.

Sena didn’t even bother with the slippers. He flung off his sneakers, all but kicking the wildly squeaking wheeled suitcase down the hallway, and _leapt_ onto Seijuuro. There was a slight grunt, but Seijuuro’s hands automatically gripped under his thighs and his heavy parka fell to the ground heedlessly.

“Four months, Sei,” Sena said seriously, frowning sternly down at the slowly growing more amused smirk on Seijuuro’s face. “I don’t care what furniture your mother bought. So shut up and kiss me already.”

Seijuuro huffed lightly, but enthusiastically did as Sena demanded. Sena buried both hands in silky black hair, too busy relearning the shape and curve of Seijuuro’s mouth to care where he was being carried to. He fell onto a bed with a quiet oof and Shin was kneeling over him, eyes soft and intense.

“I missed you,” Sena said, hands moving to frame his face, thumbs brushing over sharp cheekbones. “You missed me too, right?”

“Every day,” Seijuuro agreed. Sena grinned crookedly, cheeks still warm.

“Then get down here,” he said, tugging on Seijuuro’s sweater.

“Wait, just one second,” Seijuuro said, eyes rolling slightly at Sena's overdramatic groan. “I missed your birthday and didn’t get to say it.”

“What? Happy birthday? The email was fine, Sei. And I got your package—” Sena replied frowning slightly.

“No, not that,” Shin said shuffling them both up the bed a little more and falling next to Sena. His bigger, warmer hands took both of Sena’s and he blew over his icy fingers. “I love you.”

“Sei— I- I— You just,” Sena stuttered, his blush taking over his whole body while Seijuuro chuckled low and almost soundlessly. “I love you, too,” he muttered at last, ears still burning.

Seijuuro cupped the back of his head and led him in for another kiss.

 

* * *

 

His first night in Boston ended with them cuddled on the couch watching the ESPN and Hallmark channels, watching cheesy American TV movies between college basketball games, while eating some Indian takeout Sena had pleaded to get after looking up the closest place on his phone. He’d missed the palak paneer (the closest thing to edible and tasty tofu in America) he used to get just off-campus during his semester at Notre Dame, and while it wasn’t _exactly_ the same, it was close enough. He also hadn’t wanted to give up Seijuuro’s undivided attention long enough to allow him to cook.

The second day was spent with Sena sleeping off the jetlag while Seijuuro did his usual morning routine, and an afternoon of some sightseeing after that. The evening, however, was taken up with the teammates that lived in Boston like Seijuuro, who’d demanded to meet the elusive boyfriend none of them believed Seijuuro was actually dating over poker and beer. Not that either of them drank much, but Sena was looking forward to meeting the people Seijuuro called teammates now. He hadn’t quite built the same relationship with them that he’d had with the Knights, of course, but there were a few whose names reoccurred regularly in their Skype conversations. And those few were going to be at the bar that night.

“You’re sure you’re not too tired?” Seijuuro asked for the thousandth time as he helped Sena into his brand-new Boston-weather-practical parka. Sena tried not to shrug Seijuuro off, knowing it was more his upbringing than anything else that had Shin opening doors and pulling back chairs and the like.

“I’m sure. I slept in a whole lot, remember? I’m fine. Do you not want me to meet your new friends?” Sena asked, half-joking. A second later, his chest constricted and he had to duck his head to hide the look of wide-eyed concern and _fear_. Oh, God. What if Seijuuro _didn’t want Sena to meet them_?

“Of course I do, and they want to meet you. If you’re sure you’re not too tired,” Seijuuro added once more, concern making him scowl as he picked up his apartment keys.

“Y-yeah, I’m sure,” Sena replied, forcing his voice not to shake and give him away.

They made their way into the freezing temperatures of nighttime in the Boston winter. Seijuuro kept one arm around Sena’s shoulders, tucking him close as they crunched through snow. Sena was more than a _lot_ grateful for the jacket Seijuuro forced him to accept during their afternoon of shopping. Fortunately, the bar they were supposed to meet at was relatively close, and Sena walked in with a gusty sigh of relief. His nose and cheeks stung at the warm air inside the bar, and he almost missed the loud, excited yelling of Seijuuro’s name.

He looked over as he shrugged out of his coat to see three  _huge_ meaty guys– of course– waving in their direction, each with a large American-sized mug of beer in front of them. He barely recognized them as men he’d seen on Seijuuro’s team roster, looking as different out of their uniforms and helmets as they did. Seijuuro lifted a hand at the noisy bunch and took Sena’s jacket.

“We’ll hang them here. Do you want me to get drinks first?” Seijuuro asked, hanging the coats on the rack he’d pointed out.

Apprehension and terror clutched Sena’s throat. “An-and introduce myself?! In my terrible English?”

Seijuuro smirked slightly, eyes fond as he looked down at Sena. “I meant get drinks together that _I’ll_ pay for, but I suppose it’s rude to make them wait.”

Sena exhaled loudly and almost, but not quite, glared at Seijuuro. “We’ll order after introductions. Let’s get the hardest part over with.”

Seijuuro’s eyebrow rose. “Hard part?”

“I using English part,” Sena replied in English with cheeks turning red.

“Of course. They know you haven’t been to America in a while. They’ll be… perhaps not kind, but not rude,” Seijuuro promised, putting his hand on Sena’s shoulders.

The weight of it was comfortable. Familiar. And had a lot of Sena’s apprehension melting away. Even in front of his teammates, Seijuuro was casual and natural with his touches. It bolstered up Sena’s flagging courage as they moved through the little bit of a crowd there was to the footballers' table.

“Hey, this little guy is _the_ Sena Koboyakawa?” a big, beefy, blond man asked with a wide grin. “I’m Jeffords.”

“Don’t be a dick, Jeffords. I’m Rosales,” said the smallest guy at the table, though he was still probably twice Sena’s weight and a little taller than Seijuuro. With that physique, either a runningback like Sena, or a kicker. He had black hair and eyes and a natural tan to his complexion. “It’s nice to finally meet the guy Shin struggles using Skype for.”

All three of the men at the table laughed as Sena bit a lip to keep from laughing, too.

“It’s Ko _ba_ yakawa,” Sena said to Jeffords with a timid smile. “You very near.”

Jeffords grinned sheepishly. “I kept practicing, but I knew I’d get it wrong.”

“We’ve been teammates for two years and he still gets mine wrong. Labuschagne,” said the last man. His dark hair was cropped close to his head and his complexion was only slighter darker than Rosales’, but his accent was so different from American that it took Sena a minute to translate it. The man smiled wide and amused, dark eyes crinkling in the corners. “I’m South African. The accent threw Shin, too.”

“Oh! I never been to Africa,” Sena replied, stammering a little. He held out his hand to each player, still smiling timidly, but a little more confidently. “It nice to meet men Seijuuro thinks is friends. Thank you for taking care of him.”

He bowed as he said it, cheeks flushed. The three men glanced at each other, and then burst into laughter.

“Us? Take care of _Shin_? The man barely even needs us on the field,” Jeffords joked, slapping Shin’s back hard enough to make him grunt. His expression was one of exasperation.

“We’re a team. Of course I need you on the field,” Seijuuro said. He pulled out a chair for Sena.

Sena carefully kept his eyes on the table, trying not to let the flicker of jealousy show. They were teammates, of course Seijuuro would need them. Just like he said. But… Sena hated not being a part of that. For years, Sena had been one of the most influential people in Seijuuro’s life, on and off the field. So much of his own identity was tied up in being Seijuuro’s rival, he couldn’t remember a time where he _wasn’t_ a part of that sentiment.

Until now.

Now these boisterous, happy men who teased and joked with Seijuuro so easily and familiarly… now _they_ were more important to Seijuuro’s career than Sena.

Sena sat on the chair, forced a wide smile at one of the jokes, and curled his fists on his thighs, the thick material of his pants creaking beneath his fingers. They were nice guys, like Seijuuro said. Loud and uninhibited compared to Sena or Sakuraba and Takami, Seijuuro’s closest friends back in Japan, but they were good guys. Rosales was the quietest, with quick eyes and quicker tongue, sarcastic in a funny, good-natured way with everyone an equal target of his humor. Labuschagne was frankly more polite than Sena was expecting of an American footballer. He drank like a fish and liked to talk about his ‘momma’ back home, who was taking care of his daughter while his wife worked. They were still trying to get her and their daughter’s visa to come over, but it was taking a long time, especially since they wanted to bring their mother over, too. Jeffords was a typical American, loud and unabashed, chowing down too many snacks between stories of his own sexual prowess. Sena got the feeling Jeffords only did it to laugh at how red Sena got at every filthy joke he made and the exasperated eyerolls Seijuuro gave him.

“I’m go get drink. Do everyone want some more?” Sena asked, lifted the empty pitcher the other three had been sharing.

“Hey, now, you’re the guest here. We should treat you!” Jeffords exclaimed.

Sena grinned and shook his head. “I okay to buy more. Seijuuro, you like what?”

Seijuuro frowned slightly, but his expression cleared a second later. Either he was too polite to argue in front of everyone, or he realized Sena _wanted_ to make a good impression. “Ask for hot water. The tea here is terrible,” he said in Japanese. Sena laughed at that and slid from his chair. He knew from experience that hot tea in America tended to be tasteless bags of Lipton.

“No coffee?” Sena asked, teasing. Seijuuro glanced away.

“Or coffee.”

Sena laughed again and left the table, pitcher in hand. Just barely, he could make out Rosales saying, “Okay, I get it now. He’s a great kid.”

Sena made it to the bar walking on air and grinning. Maybe he wasn’t Seijuuro’s teammate, or even his rival anymore, but Seijuuro’s new friends liked him! Thought he was great! That was pretty amazing and more than enough.

For now.

After managing to push through the crowd around the bar, Sena stuttered out his order and stood back to wait for it. Luckily, the man seemed to know the group Sena had pointed out and didn’t ask for Sena’s ID. Which would _not_ be 21 years old. As he waited, probably longer than everyone else would with his odd order of two black coffees and two hot waters in a _bar_ in _America_ , Sena turned and leaned back against the bar, elbows braced on the surface behind him. He tipped his head back to stare upwards, humming along to the old rock song playing, just old and popular enough that it was known in Japan. He almost missed the person walking up to his side, until said-person tapped his shoulder. He startled in place and turned with worried brown eyes widening.

“I sorry! Is I in the way?” Sena asked, standing straight and taking one step back.

The man in front of him smiled and held up both hands. “Not at all. You looked a little lost in thought. I wondered if you were waiting for someone?”

“Oh, no. Not me. I’m fine,” Sena said assuredly, smiling in relief. The man didn’t move away though, just leaned on the bar himself, crossing his legs at the ankle, and smiling brightly and widely. He kinda reminded Sena of Yamato and it instantly put him at his ease. Despite how… overbearing Yamato could be, he was a good sort. Anyone who reminded him of Yamato couldn’t be too bad. He even had Asian features, noting him as perhaps Korean or Chinese, with straight white teeth and kind dark eyes.

“I’m Henry Cho,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand.

 _Korean_ , Sena thought with a mental nod. “Kobayakawa, Sena, but you can say Sena just.”

Henry’s pleasant smile got wider and the next words had Sena gaping, “I knew it! Japanese! Sorry if my Japanese is too bad.” Because he was in fact speaking in Japanese.

“No, it’s great! Wow, you speak Japanese? I wasn’t expecting that here,” Sena said with an awkward laugh.

“I studied in college. I had to take a foreign language, and my dad yelled at me when I tried Korean. Said I was being too lazy. Japanese was the next best thing.”

Sena laughed with Henry a little but broke off quickly enough. “That’s amazing. You speak all three languages then? I can barely speak English!”

“I noticed. It was really cute, though,” Henry said with a wink.

Sena flushed brightly and covered his face with his hand. “No, it was terrible! You’re just being kind.” _Weird that he used cute, though. He must’ve mixed it up with a different word_.

“So what are you doing here?” Henry asked.

“I’m waiting for drinks for my friends,” Sena said blithely. He blinked when Henry laughed again.

“I meant in _Boston_. It doesn’t seem like you’re native…?” Henry corrected. Sena blushed to his ears for the second time in less than a minute.

“Sorry. I should’ve— I’m visiting for the winter holiday. I go back to Japan in just a couple weeks. I have my last year of college left,” Sena answered, babbling and bumbling in his embarrassment.

“So you shouldn’t even be in this bar at all, should you?” Henry teased. Sena ducked his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. But… if you wanna go sightsee a bit, I grew up here. I can show you around.”

“That’s really kind, thank you!” Sena exclaimed bowing and flustered. Henry quickly grabbed Sena’s shoulders to hold him up.

“You don’t have to do that!” Henry said, half-laughing. Sena forced out an awkward laugh, and rubbed the back of his head, wondering why Henry’s hands were still on his shoulders.

“Right, sorry. I really appreciate your offer, but I already have someone to show me around,” Sena replied, sweating lightly when Henry’s hands _still lingered_. He wasn’t going to bow again! Really!

“Right, your friend. I meant… just us two?” Henry said, his cheeks a little pink. Sena blinked, then blinked again, and felt his own face flame hotly.

“You’re… you’re _flirting_ with me? With _me_?” Sena squeaked. Henry’s hands finally moved away as worry flitted over his face.

“I didn’t mean to offend, I just thought—”

“I’m not offended! That’s really flattering actually!” Sena exclaimed, hands flapping around and voice pitching shrill. At Henry’s expression becoming lighter and eager, Sena squeaked wordlessly and his hands flapped more. “B-B-But—!”

“Sena, is something wrong?”

Sena jumped in place and instantly stepped back against the body that had moved up behind him, a hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t even needed to look to know who it was and automatically seek some measure of Seijuuro’s calm for himself.

“N-No, I’m just getting to know Henry Cho. Henry, this is Shin Seijuuro. Henry was being very n-nice,” Sena explained quickly, relief loosening the knots in his shoulders as he looked up to Seijuuro’s face. Seijuuro raised an eyebrow and then held out a hand to Henry. The other he kept on Sena’s shoulder, familiar and casual, but Henry’s eyes definitely glanced at it before holding out his own hand to shake. “He speaks Japanese!” Sena added in a rush.

“Just a little,” Henry said with a much more polite and casual smile. The handshake was brief, and he was definitely cooler as he stepped back. “Enjoy your time in Boston, Sena.”

Sena almost bowed, but caught himself and waved weakly. For a minute, that friendly smile showed on Henry’s face, before he waved and disappeared into the crowd. Sena noticed then his tray of drinks had been placed on the bar and Seijuuro picked it up before Sena could.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. He was… he was being really nice, but I didn’t know he was flirting with me,” Sena admitted, hand over his red face. He peeked between his fingers at the sound of Seijuuro’s hoarse little chuckle.

“Neither did I. Jeffords pointed it out. Would you rather I’d stayed at the table? Were you enjoying the attention?” Seijuuro asked, the edge of his mouth turned up into something like a smirk. Sena almost gasped.

“I was— No! I didn’t know!” Sena exclaimed in dismay. He watched, shocked, as Seijuuro actually laughed slightly.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. I’ve known for a while I’m not the only person who considered you attractive,” Seijuuro said. Sena spluttered dubiously. Seijuuro’s dark eyes pinned him in place, serious and amused at once. “I may be faceblind, but not everyone is. Your smile is the sexiest thing about you, Sena. Of course everyone wants to look at you.”

Sena stared at Seijuuro’s back, jaw hanging around his knees and eyes so wide it _hurt_. Seijuuro just admitted, in a bar _full_ of people, that he not only thought Sena was sexy and attractive, but that _of course_ other people thought so, too. Sure, it had been in Japanese.

But it counted!

Sena covered his beet-red face in both hands and counted shakily in his head to ten to calm his heart beat. It was just _not fair_ that Seijuuro could do that to him so easily! Didn’t Seijuuro realize that Sena couldn’t see anyone else, couldn’t notice anyone else’s flirting, because he was so ridiculously, absolutely head over heels for Seijuuro? _Sena_ wasn’t the sexy one in this relationship! Seijuuro, with his… his _everything,_ was definitely the sexy one.

Sena hurried to the table a moment later, flushing and smiling under the other men’s teasing jokes about his animal magnetism, and met Seijuuro’s eyes between sips of terrible, horribly bitter coffee.

Maybe Seijuuro thought the sexiest thing about Sena was his smile.

But the sexiest thing about Seijuuro was his easy confident way of saying exactly what was on his mind. And reducing Sena to a puddle of mush in the process.

They stayed long enough in the bar for the music to change, from easily recognizable radio songs to what sounded like someone’s personal playlist. It was song after song of mellow twanging or electronic dance music. One song began to play, and, as the football players goaded Seijuuro into yet another game of poker, declaring they’d find his ‘tell’ this time, Sena leaned back and sunk into the music. It was just slow enough he could pick up the words, smiling at the romantically cheerful lyrics and even more peppy music. He made a mental note to look it up on his phone later.

They finally left when Sena started yawning and Rosales had lost almost thirty dollars. And he’d lost the least to Seijuuro’s excellent poker face. Seijuuro had tried to give it back, but they’d refused with rueful laughs at themselves.

“Hey, kid, it was nice to meet you. Sorry if we butted you out?” Jeffords said, hand clapping Sena’s back.

“No, no, it was nice. I not know poker, so I like watching,” Sena said quickly with a bright smile.

“Next time, you can come to dinner at my place. I make the best tamales you’ve ever had, and my girl would love you. She’d never believe me that you’re a footballer, though,” Rosales said with a laugh.

“Tamales? I never have those,” Sena asked with a confused frown.

“You’re missing out. We all like to meet up and scrimmage in the off-season sometimes. You’re welcome to join in,” Labuschagne said. Sena lit up at the offer. “Shin talks about how good you are all the time. We gotta see you play for ourselves, man.”

“Yes! Let’s do that!” Sena said eagerly. He interrupted himself a second later with a louder, jaw-cracking yawn. “S-Sorry. Jetleg.”

“Jetlag,” Seijuuro murmured. Sena blinked sluggishly.

“Get him home before he passes out in the snow!” Jeffords joked.

Sena and Seijuuro left just after that, waving as they put on their jackets and forced themselves out into the cold. Sena immediately shivered, ducking down below the collar of his jacket and cuddling close to Seijuuro’s side. He smiled in contentment at the immediate weight of Seijuuro’s arm around him.

“They were nice. Nicer than I thought for American footballers and… you know, us being together,” Sena said.

Seijuuro huffed. “There are a few on the team that say inappropriate things. Did you really think I’d be friends with people like that?”

“No, guess not,” Sena said with a shake of his head and smile.  “I’m glad there are those good guys to balance out the bad ones.”

Seijuuro nodded and gave Sena another squeeze. They got a few more blocks before they had to stop for a red light and a semi-truck barrelling too slowly past.

“What’s that?” Seijuuro asked, looking down at Sena.

Sena blinked sleepily, and then realized he’d been humming to himself. “It was playing during the… maybe the third game? I really liked it. I’ll try and find it…” Sena fumbled with his phone and used his data, wincing knowing how much it had cost for this travel plan, and managed to find the right song after a few mis-guesses on the lyrics.

They were just on Seijuuro’s block when Sena managed to get it to play with a small noise of triumph. The opening bars were slow and bouncing, the lyrics themselves starting slow and mundane. Until the tagline… actually the title of the song, started and had Sena smiling.

“I’ve been gone since yesterday, and I go straight, straight into your arms,” Sena sang softly, “but it only takes one day, and I run straight straight into your arms, straight into your arms.”

“Your English is better when you sing,” Seijuuro noted. Sena chuckled and shook his head. “It’s good… I see why it caught your attention.”

Sena and Seijuuro’s eyes met and Sena grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty obvious.”

_I’ve been waiting, I’m waiting. My heart is calling, it’s calling._

Sena yawned over the quiet _ooh, oooh_ s of the pause between bridge and chorus. When he opened his eyes something small and white floated down between his eyes. He looked up and smiled, eyes warm and sleepy.

“It’s snowing.”

“It’s always snowing.” Seijuuro grunted, but he was looking up, too. Sena laughed and reached out to wrap his mittened hand around Seijuuro’s gloved one.

“Snow always reminds me of the Christmas Bowl. And you, too,” Sena said.

Seijuuro lowered his gaze and reached out with his free hand. Sena’s cheek burned at the slight flush that worked its way over his chilled skin. In the dark and snow, as a not-quite-pop song crooned about love, Seijuuro leaned down to kiss him again. Sena rocked onto his tiptoes and into the kiss with an enthusiasm that belied his sleepiness.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Seijuuro murmured against Sena’s mouth a very long time later.

“Me, too,” Sena agreed fervently. Then, he tugged Seijuuro down for another. He wasn’t done yet. Not even close. Not ever.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so technically I didn't have them "dedicate" a song to each other, cuz these boys??? yeah, no. BUT I did add in a song I thought worked for them really well?? If you didn't recognize it, it's "Straight into your Arms" by Vance Joy.   
> [Click here for official youtube video!](https://www.youtube.com/watch/?v=pXU4J_cOx1Y)
> 
> I really missed my boys. Can you tell by the amount of SCHMOOP I JUST WROTE? After a long hiatus, I always so extra fluffy. I'm disgusting. I'll make it up the next chapter and make it EXTRA SMUTTY. Yes, it all balances out. LOL
> 
> In case you were upset Seijuuro doesn't finish his last year in uni: Don't worry, he'll finish his last semester in America! He's definitely smart enough to get into a good uni in USA and graduate there without too much of a setback. Maybe a summer graduation instead of spring?? Since he has to do student-teacher hours and a placement can take a while, especially for a transfer student in the middle of the year.


End file.
